Culmination
by webidolchiu94
Summary: Samuel Jonathan Evan is heir to a major pharmaceutical corporation. Penelope is a young Extractor trying to follow in her father's footsteps. His father wants him to be trained, but also wants to take a memory of an important event.
1. Prologue

Prologue

In a world where a second can last nearly twelve times as much, why wasn't there enough time? Why wasn't she fast enough? Why did it have to be _him_?  
>He had jumped in front of her, which was a stupid mistake—a car separated her from this world and waking up. The mission was incomplete; no information had been gleaned. If this was a dream, when you died, you would only wake up. Wouldn't you? That was what normally happened, right?<br>But, she quickly realized it **wasn't **a dream.  
>How? How could it not? How did she even get there, in the middle of the crosswalk like that? The events leading up to this climax were blurry and smudged, like a newly printed photograph on plain copy paper.<p>

1, 2, 3, 4. Do you love the dream or reality more?

5, 6, 9, 10. Will you make the same mistake again?

Headlights, a car, that's what she saw before she was yanked backwards violently. And in front of her—in front of her was something too real for a dream. From the asphalt she scrambled to where his body lay, broken. His glasses were a few feet away shattered beyond recognition. Shards of glass sprinkled around the pair glittered in the late summer sun. All the blood on her hands, the warmth, it could have all been imagined, yet it wasn't.  
>"Did you wake up?" she sobbed, holding the boy close, the thin liquid running over her fingers as she grabbed his matted black hair. "Did you wake up?" Salty tears fell onto his pale, quieted face and rolled over his cheeks to meet with his still pink lips. "Don't leave me. Wake me up too!"<p>

.

Across the table from her newest employer, Penelope stretched her mouth into a grim smile. He was having a hard time deciding whether or not he wanted the job to be done.

"Sir," she assured him. "I know what I'm doing." A dark laugh escaped from her lips before showing a dangerous grin. "This is my job after all."

"I just hope he's ready for it," replied the older man. His eyes jumped around quickly, looking around in suspicion although a bodyguard was at his side.

"Mr. Evan, if you're having second thoughts—,"

He held up his hand, a signal for silence. "truthfully I am, but it doesn't matter." Mr. Evan rubbed his temples with his forefingers. "Being indecisive at this late stage would be fruitless."

An understatement, to say the least.

Penelope nodded, understanding his apprehension. "So am I to proceed?"  
>After an incredibly long pause, he sighed. "Yes, as you see fit." He looked into her eyes, they were the color of wet mud. She gave no sign of hesitation at his eye contact, but raised an eyebrow. He had an extra request? "I was merely wondering, where is your team?"<p>

It turned out to be idle curiosity, she concluded. How boring. Her gaze seemed to travel out the window to some far off point past the block the Parisian café was stationed. "They'll be arriving next week. However, first I have to implant a very small first impression on his subconscious."

Shock was only one of the emotions that flashed across his weary face.  
>"You're going to go in alone?"<p>

"I usually work best alone, actually." The oncoming mob was raging closer, she could see it in the distance but she ignored its urgency. "Ever—well yes, yes I am." Why she was telling him the specifics was beyond her, but it often helped to calm the employer when they knew the specifics. "It's to imprint myself into his mind so that when he notices me later, he'll be more receptive."

Mr. Evan reahed into his suit-coat and pulled out a picture.

"This is my son."

A tall, blue-eyed young gentleman was standing next to a blue police box. His blond hair was short and swept over his face only slightly.

"I see."

And then the world around them exploded, and they both woke up.

.

_You're standing on the sidewalk__  
><em>_Waiting for the light to change__  
><em>_And when it does you cross the street and__  
><em>_Something is not right__  
><em>_A car comes careening toward you yet__  
><em>_It doesn't matter__  
><em>_"Tell me why"__  
><em>_Because you'll be ripped apart._


	2. Chapter 1

_Is this the real life?__  
><em>_Is this just fantasy?__  
><em>_Caught in a landslide,__  
><em>_No escape from reality?_

_._

"There's someone here to see you," said the young woman. Her dark eyes were wide, almost blank looking, and she had the wide psychotic grin to match it. A long, floor length dress, made of cardinal silk was all she wore. It was strapless, and draped in layers around her willowy skeleton. Her hair was a deep cinnamon, and she stood in the doorway of the small bedroom, her comment addressed to the only on inside.

A young girl, around four or five, sat on a large square pillow in front of a panoramic flat screen television that took up most of the room. Her hair was caramel, as was her skin. The dress she wore was a delicate lavender, and was cut like a princes gown; it puffed outwards near her hips and nearly covered her frilly white socks and ebony dress shoes.

"He asked for you by name," said the woman, her smile never wavering an inch. She stepped aside to allow the young man behind her to enter.

The room was silent, save for the television, which was playing an assortment of lively cartoon clips. As the upbeat music played, the cheerful figures swayed to the music in repetitive, flowing movements.

The young man stood in the room, fists clenched tightly and an apprehensive look on his face. Within one of his hands he carried a slim brown rod that resembled a tree branch the way it narrowed at the tip.

Slowly, the girl turned around and looked upwards from where she sat.

"Have you come to kill me, Mister?"

Her eyes were blank and unforgiving. Just like his brother's.

.

Chapter One: Empyreal Encounter

It was mid-day, warm, and Samuel was outside on the roof of his school. He looked down. Lunch. He was having lunch. There was quite a spread, more than he usually ate, actually. On the large red and white checkered blanket where he was sitting he could see the contents of his meal. There were a couple of cucumber sandwiches, a bottle Coca-Cola with perspiration running down the still cold bottle, and two bags of Lays potato crisps, original flavour.

In his hand was a Coke, and a drop of water ran down his hand, which was numb from the temperature of the drink. He sighed and took a sip.

"Sam?" said a voice behind him.

At that he started; it was odd, he thought he had heard a voice, hadn't he? A girl's voice. That was impossible, he couldn't dream of a girl noticing him in a million billion—

"I'm boring you aren't I?" said the voice again.

He must have been losing his mind.

But then again, he might not have been.

Two tan arms encircled his neck from behind, and he could feel the light impression of lips brush against his hair.

_Say something, idiot! _said his mind.

"Uh…" was all he could mutter, before looking to the ground.

"I am a bore, I guess," said the girl. Her voice was light, beautiful of course, but had a slight…American accent to it. He had yet to see her face, and the worst part was that he couldn't help but wonder if it all was a dream.

It had to be. No one was interested in him personally. No one.

"You're not a bore," said Samuel, unwilling to let this end. Inevitably, though it had to. All good things end, and he figured he'd prolong this one as much as possible. "You're wonderful."

"Do you mean it?"

The wind blew past, swirling her scent around him. It was a mix of fresh aloe and sweet marigold.

"Yes," he said. "Yes."

.

Penelope's eyes fluttered open. She often forgot how odd dreams could feel. Sometimes she felt detached from her body in real life, as if she were a balloon about to float away. In dreams, that wasn't the case. She was free, but she felt more secure; grounded was a better term for it.

She removed the line from her arm and allowed it to snap back into the PASIV. Penelope did the same for Samuel, who returned to the simulated environment she had constructed. Once she had reached a certain point in the dream, she allowed him to construct the rest of it himself. She checked her watch. The face was a large flat rectangle with no numbers, and it was still glowing green. Good then. The dream was still stable, and the plan had worked.

Now, on to Extraction. And later on, the inevitable Inception of his father's ultimate goal.

Penelope looked at the sleeping boy and cursed mentally.

He was too effing sweet to manipulated this way, but a job was a job.

.

**Please R&R!**


	3. Chapter 2

_Cheer up, Sleepy Jean.  
>Oh, what can it mean.<br>To a daydream believer  
>And a homecoming queen.<em>

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Two: Preparations<span>

The girl watched as the two hands rubbed together roughly, a wedding band on the right one while the other was bare. She couldn't recall him wearing one before, but quickly dismissed it to the back of her mind. Right now she was supposed to be paying attention to today's lesson.

"When your body senses an infection," said the owner of the hands, "the usual response from your immune system is immediate, and it attacks the pathogens much like when sharks are drawn to the smell of blood in water."

Before her was a man. Beside her were her colleagues. Another girl to her left, and a pair of twins to her right.

They sat in an open plain that swept into infinity, carpeted by emerald grass. The children all nodded in agreement with his statement, hoping for more valuable information. They'd spent quite some time with their instructor, and had come to enjoy the brief lessons from him that they attended throughout the day. After a while It was hard to tell how long that the four of them had been there, but it wasn't so bad.

"The same can be said of dreams," said the man, finishing his thought. "When the mind finds something amiss, the subconscious tries to identify the source of the contamination. But—," he tapped the side of his temple twice. "What can be said of ideas?"

A tiny hand shot up, eager for a chance to shine.

The man chuckled, pointing to one of the girls.

"Yes, Varsha?" he said.

The girl had a length of black hair that flowed down her back and a calm, confident smile.

"Well, ideas are very resilient. Once successfully implanted, the mind cannot completely destroy an idea."

The man's face darkened for a second, as if he were reflecting on something. "You are absolutely correct," his fingers briefly touched the golden band he wore. "An idea is nearly impossible to kill."

* * *

><p>42<p>

* * *

><p>Boarding school, what a joke. A professional like herself that was finished with school, playing the role of a schoolgirl? Well, it had its upsides at least. For one, the uniform wasn't half bad.<p>

Penelope swayed her hips coquettishly as she walked down the hallway of Patterson-Drouen Academy. Might as well have fun while she was here. Mr. Evan wanted this job done, and well, so it was all expenses paid. That included food, board, tuition, everything.

Jobs like this were what she lived for. Play by day, work by night, and the best part was you never lost any sleep.

This took the words "Dream Job" to an all new level.

She never formally attended high school, so it was going to be an interesting experience.

Penelope held a textbook to her chest and held onto the knapsack hanging from her right shoulder, still walking in that same seductively swinging gait. Her navy, grey and black plaid kilt swayed in accordance to her movement, catching the eye of some nearby students.

She was new here, and everybody could tell just by looking at her walk.

As she passed a couple of boys next to the water fountain, Penelope noticed them ogling her and grinned inwardly. This was going to be interesting.

Everyone wore blue blazers and white collared shirts. Girls wore red bows around thier necks, but the boys had red ties and khakis for bottoms. And, of course, no one could ignore the mid-thigh plaid skirts that the Academy was infamous for.

Penelope wondered when the rest of her team was going to arrive. She'd called them before to make sure that they arrived on time, and being punctual was crucial for success. A quick glance at her watch worried her even more. Class was in fifteen minutes. First impressions in the real world were just as important as those in the dreamscape. At least, that was her personal belief.

From the time she had graduated from her training as an Extractor, Penelope always thought it made a big impact on the subject whether or not the first meeting in real life (if it was one of those legal jobs) was a positive or negative experience. But it all depended on the subject.

Her subject was a male, so that made things somewhat easier. A teenaged male, so that was another point in favor of her.

There were two types of male subjects, the nice guy and the jerk.

The nice guy, he comes in several flavors: Confident, unconfident, and mixed bag. The confident types are okay to persuade, but it takes some effort. Unconfident types tend to be easier to manipulate, but mixed bag is tougher than both. Unconfident types also tend to be the artsy, and/or emo. Confident types tend to be in sports, but they are usually the team-players who treat everyone with a lot of respect. Mixed bag wavers between either type constantly.

The jerks are different. You have to beat them down instead of building them up. Actually, you have to beat them down THEN build them up. There are usually two types of jerk. The Pig, and the Doofus. The Pig is hard to work with because his ideas are so fixed. The Doofus is basically a jerk with a heart of gold, so you can appeal to their better nature.

One reason why Penelope went into the subject's dream alone was to evaluate him. Turns out he was the nice guy type, and by the way he reacted, Samuel wasn't all that confident.

Two words: cake walk.

Penelope made sure to avoid seeing him before she and her friends were going to be introduced to the class. She should have been in the headmaster's office right now, waiting for the rest of them, so she was on the way there. To make sure she didn't run into Sam early, she requested that his father have the new driver pretend to be lost for a while.

It was a short walk to the office; she hadn't strayed too far from it. She wanted to take a look around the grounds, but remembered that Mr. Evan had arranged it so that his teacher would assign his son to tour her around the school later on.

When she walked past the brown mahogany doors, she didn't expect to be tackled head-on.

"Nels!" squealed a voice, distinctly female. "I missed you so much!"

In the commotion, the two girls had teetered off-balance, and Penelope had to grab the wall to keep the both of them from falling.

"Glad to see you too, Varsha," said Penelope.

What a cousin. The second you walk in there's an ambush waiting around the corner.

" I heard this subject's a cute one, so I just had to be here!"

"You would be here just for that, wouldn't you?" said a tall, curly-topped boy behind her. He had two pools of peppermint tea for eyes, translucent and jade green. Across his face were freckles bridging his nose and cheeks, and resting on his shoulder was a large dark blue backpack.

"Kyle!" said Penelope, surprised to see the young prodigy out in public, "I thought you said you weren't leaving the lab!?"

He shook his head and smiled nervously. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Yani didn't want to come to Wales, did she?" said Penelope. She figured there was only one reason such an accomplished young Chemist would turn down a job like this. It had to be because he was engrossed in whatever new research that The Agency had given him as busywork. Of course he could always take a leave of absence or have them send another Chemist for the job, but that was where things had snagged for Kyle.

Yani, his lab partner, was his substitute when it came to their unique services in the field of shared dreams. However, as of late she'd been taking on nearly all the jobs he was supposed to take up. This trip was where she put her foot down and swore to Krishna that if it was the last thing she did, then Kyle Isaacs would be on the next flight to Wales.

"She can't have all the fun, now can she?" said Kyle.

The twenty-something youngster gave a roguish, lopsided smile and pat his backpack gently. Dawson-casting job or not, he was going to have a little fun while he was at it. Maybe some pranks while he was here? Superglue was always fun to make.

"Oi!" said another voice from the doorway. "You lot forgetting someone?"

That Australian accent gave him away from the first syllable. Penelope felt her face instantly turn bright red despite her efforts .

"What's with the mad blush, Nelsy?" said the boy. He was slightly shorter than Kyle, and his dirt brown bangs were so long they brushed the top of his glasses' frames.

Her ex, Gary A. Baume.

"You don't look happy to see me, darling," scolded Gary, his arms wide open for a hug.

It wasn't a matter of happy or not, it was just that seeing him brought up quite a few memories for her. Gary hadn't been on the same team that she'd been trained with, but he was her number one rival in the YE program. So they went out a couple times. Well, they went out a lot, mostly in dreams. Okay, always in dreams.

After graduation they parted ways, and never saw one another again until "the incident".

Penelope gave him a hug, but her heart wasn't in it at all. Gary looked down, his blue eyes twinkling.

"So we gonna get him or what?" he asked.

"Come on," said Penelope, turning on her heel. "Class is in a few."


End file.
